Once I rolled out of bed and cleaned up for the day my first chore was checking my email. Ever since I'd added my email address and the URL for my web...site to my fliers I'd found a substantial portion of my work came my way electronically, almost as much as I got from referrals. That morning—nothing but a few pieces of spam that had sneaked past the filters.Right at six my lady charged in the door. "Tommy, it's the Palace for dinner, let's go."I knew that tone meant I shouldn't ask any. "Mistress Tate, when I was in Ms. Anderson's laundryroom, I. . . I masturbated without permission." His ears were burning."I'm sorry, Mistress Tate," he added sincerely."You masturbated without permission," she repeated quietly as sheflicked his nipples. "Is that all? You didn't do anything else?" Um. . . I tried on some of Ms. Anderson's panties, Mistress Tate." Some of them? Do you remember how many?" Flick, flick. He frowned, replaying in his mind how he had frolicked in them. "Sevenor. More

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